


turn back time

by lizzieonawhim



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death Fix, Clover is both lucky and determined, Depression, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Qrow spirals hard, Referenced suicide, Ruby's eyes are lethal weapons and not only to the Grimm, Salem is not coming she just said that to get to Ironwood, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Time Travel Fix-It, Trauma, don't read for accuracy of any kind, don't worry it's not qrow or clover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22524520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzieonawhim/pseuds/lizzieonawhim
Summary: Turning back the clock is one thing, but the heart doesn't heal so easily. Title subject to change.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & Ruby Rose, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 42
Kudos: 162





	turn back time

**Author's Note:**

> ever have something sitting in your drafts for weeks, forget you never gave it a name, and accidentally publish it as "working title"? yeah...
> 
> Huge thanks to my BFF Tarrin for betaing this for me!!! Things make much more sense now than they did before <3

As Oscar lifted the Staff of Creation, the world stopped. Then everything blurred away.

Fragments of moments drifted past -- a face here, a voice there, vague impressions that faded in a moment and left nothing in their wake. As Qrow drifted, he had the sense that the world was being unmade, his own existence spun out into nearly nothing, just a long thin thread stretching further and further along the stream of time. Slowly, the impressions gained clarity, until at last Qrow felt himself slam back into his body. He stumbled back with a grunt.

“Qrow? You okay?”

Qrow looked around, feeling disoriented. Brown buildings. Black cobblestones. White snow drifting at the edges of the walkway. Robyn standing over an unconscious Tyrian, triumphant and unharmed. And at Qrow’s side--

“Qrow?” Clover repeated, worry etched all over his handsome face. Qrow’s eyes drifted downward, taking in his broad shoulders, his unbloodied uniform, his firm, confident stance. Oz had told them the Staff could rewind time, but Qrow hadn’t dared to imagine the implications. Now it was hitting him like a fist to the gut.

_ “I wanted to trust you, too!” _

_ “Someone had to take the fall.” _

_ “Good luck.” _

None of it had happened. Not anymore.

“Hey.” Clover’s laughing voice cut through Qrow’s spiral. “Don’t you think you should buy me dinner first?” Qrow looked up into lively green eyes. In his mind’s eye he saw them dimming as Clover went still in the snow. Qrow remembered how when Ruby used the Lamp of Knowledge, everyone present at the time had experienced the story of Salem’s origins. Was that why he still remembered the original timeline, because he was there when Oscar used the Staff? That would explain why Qrow seemed to be the only one reacting to the time shift. He, Ruby, Oscar, and Penny were the only ones in the world who knew what happened.

Something must have shown on Qrow’s face, because Clover frowned.

“Qrow, you didn’t get hit with his tail, did you? Maybe we should have the transport bring some antivenom.”

“No,” Qrow managed, after a beat. “No, I’m not poisoned.” He forced a laugh. “Believe me, I know what that feels like.”

“Okay,” Clover said slowly. “Well, I didn’t see you hit your head, but--”

“No no, I’m fine, really,” Qrow hastened to assure him. “Just -- just... tired, I guess.” Clover gave him a searching look, then shrugged.

“Aren’t we all,” he said with a crooked smile. “Come on, let’s secure the prisoner for transport before he wakes up.” Qrow followed him over to Tyrian’s collapsed form and went through the motions of securing his hands and tail with a strange sense of déja-vu. Roll him over. Cuff him. Sit him up. Hold him steady; watch Clover jury-rig a restraint for the tail out of his spare bola. The transport turned up a little earlier in the process than it had last time around, but that was probably because Qrow had stopped to stare at a dead man walking. Tyrian half-woke just as it was setting down; they dragged him to his feet and marched him into the transport. There, Qrow stopped, watching as Clover took another set of restraints from one of the pilots and used it to tie the still-dazed Tyrian’s cuffs to the bench.

This was it. Once this plane took off, there was no turning back. Ironwood would send out the warrant. Clover would try to arrest him. Robyn would take offense. They’d fight. Tyrian would get loose, the plane would crash, and it would all end with Clover bleeding out in the snow. If Qrow was going to change things, he had to do it now. He cleared his throat.

“Hey, uh, I just remembered, I’ve got something I gotta do here in Mantle. You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“What?” Robyn propped a hand on her hip. “The city’s under evacuation. What are you going to do, buy a new coat?”

“Uhh, no,” Qrow said, cursing inwardly. “No, I uh, I just want to do another loop, you know, check for stragglers. You can never be too careful.” 

“Ironwood’s orders were to return to Atlas as soon as we were finished with Callows,” Clover said, frowning at him.

_ I don’t answer to Ironwood _ , Qrow thought viciously. “I’ll catch the next transport back. Just make sure Tyrian stays in custody, alright?” Qrow turned and started back down the gangplank.

“Qrow wait!” Qrow heard running footsteps; a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He flinched and spun to face a visibly startled Clover, who held up his hands. “Qrow,” Clover said slowly, “you’re acting strangely. I think you must have hit your head. Why don’t you come back to Atlas and we’ll get you checked out by Medical? Robyn can check for stragglers.”

“I’m not going back to Atlas!” Qrow snarled, stepping into a defensive crouch on reflex. Clover’s expression hardened.

“Qrow, I can’t let you go back out there like this.” He took out Kingfisher. “This is for your own good.”

Qrow knew damn well how it felt when time froze, thanks to the Staff. The moment that passed as he took in Clover standing in front of him in a fighting stance, Kingfisher easy in his hand, felt a little bit like that.

“No,” Qrow croaked. He straightened without realizing it. “No. Not again. I -- I won’t let it happen again.”

Clover looked confused. “Qrow, what--”

“Just stay away from me!” With that, Qrow stumbled back. Forgetting discretion in his haste, he turned, shifted into a crow, and flew away.

* * *

“Did he just turn into a bird?” said Robyn.

Clover just stared up at Qrow’s departing form, mouth agape. He hadn’t been sure the General wasn’t pulling his leg about that. It didn’t seem likely that Ironwood would joke around in a mission briefing, but the alternative was just unbelievable.  _ Well,  _ he thought, eyes fixed skyward as Qrow disappeared,  _ seeing is believing, I guess. _

“Did we know he could do that?” Robyn pressed.

“Uhh,” said Clover. “Ironwood might’ve mentioned it.”

“Not to me,” Robyn huffed. After a moment, she said, “Well? Are you going to go get him?” And Clover wanted to. But.

“I have orders to get Tyrian back to Atlas,” he said.

“Seriously?” Robyn demanded. “Your partner is out there by himself in a city full of Grimm and you’re just going to leave him?” She scoffed. “Some huntsman you are.” Clover gritted his teeth.

“I don’t have a choice,” he ground out. “Tyrian is too dangerous for us to keep in a transport for any longer than necessary. We need to get him back to Atlas as quickly as possible so he can be contained.”

“Well I don’t see why both of us need to do that,” said Robyn. “Let me handle Tyrian. You go out there and get your partner. Even I could see he wasn’t in his right mind.”

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable--”

“Please,” Robyn scoffed. “I’d be a pretty poor huntress if I couldn’t handle one prisoner on my own, especially after you and Qrow trussed him up like an Autumn Day turkey.” Still, Clover hesitated. Robyn rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep a stun bolt locked and loaded in case he tries anything.  _ Go.  _ There’s nothing useful you can do here.”

“If you’re sure,” said Clover.

“Of course I am,” said Robyn with a smile. “Now get moving. Even you’re not lucky enough to find someone just by standing around.”

Clover gave an amused huff and headed off down the gangplank. Once he was clear, he heard the door close and the plane lift off. Closing his eyes, he tuned that out, flicked his pin, and turned slowly in a circle. After a moment, his feet stopped. When he opened his eyes, he was facing south, towards the hole the Grimm were coming through. “Figures,” he muttered, then cast Kingfisher at a streetlamp and swung himself into the air.

* * *

Qrow flew fast and hard, with no thought except to get  _ away  _ \-- away from the transport, away from Clover, away from a future in which he fucked up  _ again  _ and somebody died because of it. He didn’t realize he was flying south until he saw Grimm in the streets below, at which point he landed on a nearby roof and shifted human to stare.

By this point, everyone close to the entry point was either dead or evacuated. Qrow’s kids were good, and so were the Ace Ops, but he could still see corpses in the street, especially closer to the gap in the wall. Wherever the Grimm went, they brought death and destruction with them. Qrow looked down and saw a herd of Goliaths lumbering past the building on which he stood. Without really thinking about it, he whipped out Harbinger and leapt.

The first one went down easy: one solid crack at the skull from terminal velocity, and it was done. Qrow leapt to the next as it was still dissolving into nothing, Harbinger swinging for the new target’s neck. In this timeline, his beloved scythe had never tasted Clover’s blood, but as he fought Qrow felt as if he could still see it, dried and flaking along the blade. He channeled rage and grief into his swings, going from Grimm to Grimm in a vengeful whirl and taking them down as he went. There were no people left in this part of town, but every Grimm he killed here was one that someone else would never have to face. It was one less orphaned child, one less weeping mother, one less body lying cold in the tundra.

Qrow missed his next swing and landed on the cobblestones. Rotten luck. He grabbed hold of that luck and shoved it at the Grimm he’d fallen from, face twisting with malice. The beast stumbled with a trumpeting cry; Qrow took the opportunity to leap atop its skull and shoot point-blank into its eye-socket. Then he flipped out of the way as another Goliath charged, its massive hooves coming down directly on its wounded comrade’s skull and crushing it into dust.

Bad luck was a great thing to bring to an enemy, but this wasn’t the first time Qrow had brought it to a friend. When he was a student, Qrow had looked forward to unlocking his semblance, just as every huntsman-in-training did. It was as much of a milestone as growing a beard -- more, maybe, because your semblance was special. Your semblance was just for you. It was an expression of your soul, some said, tailored perfectly to its wielder. Little did Qrow know the pain and destruction his own would bring to everyone around him.

The Goliaths kept coming, one right after the other. Qrow fought them on auto-pilot, lost in thought. Was it worth it? Qrow had always told himself it was. He had told himself that as long as he could keep it contained, the good he could do by fighting Grimm was worth dealing with the negative effect his semblance had on him. All he had to do was keep to himself so that no one else had to deal with his bad luck. Sure, it was lonely, but that was okay. Qrow could handle being lonely if it meant that other people didn’t have to suffer. His semblance was  _ his  _ problem, and no one else’s. The least he could do was keep it that way. If he could use it to make other people’s lives better, even if he never got to see or experience that, maybe he could even turn his semblance -- and his horrifying trainwreck of a life -- into something good. Something that had meaning and purpose.

But lately, things didn’t seem to be working out that way. When Qrow looked back on what had happened in the other timeline, all he could see was sheer bad luck. The timing of the warrant, Tyrian getting free, the crash -- Qrow was willing to bet everything he owned that none of it would have ever happened without his fucking semblance. Qrow brought misfortune wherever he went. He brought death. At the end of the day, was he really any different from the Grimm?

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Qrow didn’t hear the sound of giant hooves as a Goliath charged him from the back. It hit him straight on and sent him flying into a nearby building. Upon impact, Qrow felt the distinctive crackle of energy across his skin that signaled his aura breaking. As he crumpled to the ground, Qrow realized this meant his semblance was gone. The most painful irony of Qrow’s life was that it was only ever when he was broken down and beaten within an inch of his life that he got a taste of what it was like to be normal. Maybe, just this once, he would finally be lucky enough to fucking die.

“Qrow!”

Qrow closed his eyes, recognizing the voice. No. Not him. Not  _ him. _

Lost in a miasma of misery, both mental and physical, Qrow barely registered the sounds of the Goliath that had attacked him meeting its end. A moment later, he heard running footsteps and opened his eyes just as Clover dropped to his knees beside him.

“Qrow,” Clover breathed. “You’re alive. Thank the gods.”

“How did you find me?” Qrow mumbled. Clover let out a hysterical sound that bore only the vaguest resemblance to a laugh.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he said. “Hang on, Qrow. I’m going to get you out of here. Just hang on, okay?”

As he looked up into worried green eyes, Qrow had the bare whisper of a thought that maybe something was missing from his calculations. Before he could follow up on it, a wave of dizziness rose up and swept him away into unconsciousness.

* * *

Qrow woke to the sound of persistent beeping over the low hum of machinery. The surface he was lying on was clearly trying to be a mattress, but couldn’t quite manage the appropriate balance of firm and soft; the sheets felt more coarse than what he’d gotten used to sleeping on in Atlas, though anything beat a tree in the woods, which was what he’d been used to before. As he slowly floated back to full consciousness, he put two and two together and realized he was in a hospital.

So nothing that unusual, then. What  _ was _ unusual was that there was a third, intermittent sound in the room, a cross between a buzzing and a grinding, like a pulsing chainsaw. A snore. Qrow opened his eyes to see Clover slumped over in a chair, arms crossed over his chest, sound asleep at Qrow’s bedside.

“No.” The word slipped out in a rasp before Qrow could stop it. Clover jolted awake.

“Huh -- wha --” Green eyes darted around the room in confusion before landing on Qrow. “Qrow. You’re awake.” Qrow had to look away from the open relief on Clover’s face. “Here, let me call a nurse.” Clover reached for the call button. Qrow grabbed his hand before he could push it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. Clover met his eyes, jerked his hand free, and pushed the button with a deliberate firmness that dared Qrow to challenge it. A young fox faunus in light green scrubs bustled into the room.

“Mr. Branwen, you’re awake!” they said cheerfully. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine,” Qrow said shortly. He didn’t look away from Clover.

“Okay, great! I just need to run a few tests to make sure everything’s okay. You were in a pretty bad state when you got here.” They paused. “Your friend can wait outside, if you want.”

“My orders are to keep an eye on him,” said Clover. The fox faunus wrung their hands anxiously.

“Uh, b-be that as it may, Huntsman, we’re going to need to discuss confidential medical details, and uhh, policy states you can’t be here for that unless the patient consents.”

Clover quirked an eyebrow at Qrow, who narrowed his eyes. Clover sighed and looked away, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I’ll be right outside.” The look he gave Qrow made it a promise and a warning. He stood and left the room, closing the door behind him. The faunus cleared their throat.

“Okay, Mr. Branwen, like I said, we just need to run a few tests. When you arrived here, your aura was broken, and you had also sustained numerous injuries, several of them serious. Three of your ribs--” As the faunus spoke, Qrow found himself zoning out. Normally he would have listened intently to this kind of thing, making a mental note of all his injuries and trying to estimate how long it would be before he was on his feet again. Sometimes when an aura broke, it took a while to regenerate, meaning injuries healed at a much slower rate than they did for someone whose aura was intact. Qrow’s luck meant this happened to him more often than it did for most people.

So yes, normally he would have paid attention. Today, though… today Qrow was just tired. He stared blankly at the nurse and let his mind wander.

“...So if you’re ready, I’ll just need to get a blood sample, and then we can let your friend back in while you wait for the results,” the nurse finished.

“Don’t bother,” said Qrow. The nurse blinked in obvious confusion.

“Oh, uhh, okay,” they said awkwardly. “Well, let’s just take that blood sample now, okay?”

“Sure, whatever,” Qrow said, and offered his arm. He watched the needle fill and tried not to think of Clover’s blood gleaming wetly all over Harbinger’s blade. Blood on a Huntsman’s weapon wasn’t unheard of, but it was relatively rare; Grimm didn’t bleed, after all. It wasn’t as if Qrow had  _ never _ fought another human being with Harbinger, but it was rare enough to stand out. He looked away from the needle. Gods, he needed a drink.

“Okay, all set!” said the nurse cheerfully as they finished applying a small bandage to the injection site and stood. “If you need anything, just press the call button and I’ll be along just as quick as I can.”

“Thanks,” Qrow muttered. The nurse left. Qrow watched through the small square window as they relayed his wishes to Clover, who looked stricken. Then he squared his shoulders and said something to the nurse, who shook their head. Their reply made Clover’s shoulders slump; Qrow felt a pang of guilt at the pleading look on his face as he spoke again. The nurse looked regretful, but shook their head again. Clover turned his head to look through the window, and for a moment, their eyes met. Qrow looked away quickly, but he knew he’d never forget the look of hurt and confusion in those green eyes.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself. It’s for the best.

When he looked through the window again, Clover was gone.

* * *

Qrow spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of sleep while his body healed and his mind wandered. When he woke, he found he had another visitor. This one sat cross-legged with a comic in her lap and her scythe leaned up against the wall behind her.

“Ruby,” he croaked, and watched in amusement as she jumped, lost her balance, and flailed comically for a moment.

“Uncle Qrow!” she exclaimed, once she’d regained equilibrium. “You’re awake!”

“What are you doing here, kiddo?” Qrow rasped. His throat felt dry as paper.

“I came to keep you company,” she said. “You know, since you sent Clover away.” She paused. “Are you mad at him or something?”

I don’t need company, Qrow thought. I don’t deserve company. “No, no, I just, uhh, wasn’t feeling up to socializing.”

“Oh,” said Ruby. “Well, you should probably tell him that. He seemed pretty upset.” Great, there was that guilt again. Qrow squashed it down.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell him later.” He wouldn’t, but Ruby didn’t need to know that. “What happened while I was out? Did you manage to save Mantle?”

Ruby winced. “Um… kinda-sorta? We got everyone evacuated, but then Atlas kind of… fell.” Qrow stared at her in horror; she started flailing again. “Oh but, uhh, it’s fine, actually, Ironwood had a backup system that ran on Dust and that worked for a while, and then Weiss and her sister made this huge glyph together and they managed to put it down in the ocean, but a lot of stuff got broken when we landed and some people got hurt, and now Atlas is vulnerable to the Grimm since it’s, y’know, on the ground--”

“How did Ironwood take all this?” Qrow interrupted. Ruby flinched and looked down, suddenly still.

“Well, um, the thing is… General Ironwood, he…” She took a deep breath. “He didn’t make it.” The words fell into the silence like the tolling of a bell. Qrow stared at the ceiling in shock. For all that he’d been ready to kill Ironwood himself in the other timeline, some part of him hadn’t believed the man would actually die. “He went down to the Vault to protect the Relic, only Cinder was there, and she… she killed him. He died a hero.” Qrow let out a bitter chuckle.

“Of course he did,” he muttered. James couldn’t even let Qrow have the satisfaction of hating him in peace. The bastard. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Um, Penny is the Winter Maiden?” Ruby offered. Qrow stared at her.

“How the hell did that happen?”

“I don’t know. Penny doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

“But how does that even work?”

Now Ruby frowned at him. “She’s a real person, Uncle Qrow,” she said sternly. “With an aura and everything. Why  _ shouldn’t _ she be able to be a Maiden?” Qrow shook his head.

“No, no, you’re right. Sorry. I guess I’m just surprised.”

“We all were, at first,” said Ruby. “But you know, when I think about it, I don’t think there’s anyone better for the job.” She smiled, a little wistfully.

“Yeah, she’s a good kid,” said Qrow. Ruby didn’t respond at first. She sat fidgeting with her comic, eyes down, clearly itching to say something but not quite sure if she should. Qrow didn’t roll his eyes, but only just barely. “Alright kiddo, spit it out. What’s up?”

“Clover told us what happened,” Ruby said. “He said you started acting weird after you took down Tyrian, and then you took off. He found you trying to take on a herd of Goliaths by yourself.”

“I--” Qrow scratched his head and looked away. “Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“Why did you do that?” Ruby’s eyes shimmered as she looked up at him, heartache written clearly across her face. Qrow found himself somewhat at a loss to answer her.

“I, uhh,” he said, after a long moment. “I guess I just wasn’t thinking.” Not exactly true; he’d been thinking too much, and in all the wrong ways. But he wasn’t about to explain that to his seventeen-year-old niece. She had enough on her mind as it was.

“Did it have something to do with the other timeline?” Ruby pressed. “From before Oscar used the Staff?” Qrow jerked a little in surprise.

“You’re too smart for your own good, kid, y’know that?” he told her. “Listen, don’t worry about it, okay? I’m not gonna do anything like that again.” Then Ruby sniffled.

“You promise?” she said, silver eyes shining with tears. Qrow was speechless for a moment. Gods, at moments like these, she looked just like her mother at that age.

“Y-yeah,” he said at last. “I promise.”

“Good,” said Ruby. She wiped her eyes. “You really scared us, y’know? You were in really bad shape when Clover brought you in. Nobody knew if you were going to make it.” Qrow felt another pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry, Ruby,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ruby didn’t answer, just sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “Hey, come get a hug?” He couldn’t help bracing himself a little as she leaned down towards him, knowing what the combination of broken ribs and Ruby’s enthusiasm was likely to feel like. To his surprise, Ruby embraced him with a careful gingerness that was completely unlike any other motion he’d ever seen her make. Qrow rested his hands gently on her back, unable to exert much force but wanting her to know he cared. They stayed like that for a bit; then Ruby pulled back. Qrow let his hands fall back to the bed.

“You should get some sleep,” said Ruby. “The doctors said you’d need a lot of it.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Qrow. “Love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too, Uncle Qrow.”

And with that, he fell asleep.

* * *

The next time Qrow woke up, he was alone, for which he was grateful. It made it easier to do what needed to be done.

Gingerly, he sat up, trying to ignore the way his still-healing ribs twinged. It hurt, but not as badly as Qrow had feared; perhaps his aura was finally kicking in. Then, carefully, he grasped his IV in his non-dominant hand and pulled it out along the vein and away from himself. The heart rate monitor he left in place for now. Over on a countertop was a pen and a pad of prescription paper; Qrow made his way over, wincing, and began to write.

When he was finished, he looked around his room for Harbinger and found it leaning up in the corner by the door. Qrow tried to take a deep breath, then grunted with pain as his ribs protested. Then he straightened, detached the heart monitor, and carefully made his way over to grab Harbinger. The blade was clean; Qrow ran his hand over the flat of it and found it perfectly flat and smooth. Still, he knew it would be a while before he felt completely at ease with the weapon that had acted as an extension of himself for most of his life.

Hospital staff would be here soon to find out why the heart monitor had gone flat. Qrow intended to be long gone by then. Gripping Harbinger tightly, he opened the door to the room and slipped out.

The hallway outside his room was brightly lit and full of people. Qrow slunk down the hall, free hand in his pocket, like he was just another visitor on his way to see a loved one. He made a right, a left, and another right, then pushed open an exterior door and found himself in a small, empty courtyard. Above, the shattered moon shone in an empty night sky, with only one or two brave stars forcing their way through the light pollution. Qrow took a deep breath and strode across the courtyard, away from where the lights inside would too easily show a human being transforming into a bird.

“Going somewhere?”

Qrow froze for a moment, then forced himself to roll his eyes and turn around. Clover stood just in front of the hospital doors with his arms folded across his chest, looking unimpressed. Qrow scoffed.

“Geez, guy, can’t you take a hint?”

“I can,” Clover said. “But I saw you skulking through the halls on my way to visit Marrow, and something told me you hadn’t been officially discharged.”

“So I went to get some air,” said Qrow. “I still don’t see how it’s any of your business.” At that, Clover visibly deflated. He uncrossed his arms to prop one hand on his hip and rub the back of his neck with the other.

“Look, Qrow, whatever I did to upset you, I--”

“It’s not that,” Qrow said, then clenched his jaw and silently cursed himself. Why was it that whenever someone hit him with the kicked-puppy look, he folded like a hand of deuces?

“Then what is it? Because I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of what could have you acting so weird and I just can’t figure it out.” Clover paused, then added, “Does it have something to do with the other timeline?” Qrow’s mind blanked out with shock.

“The -- the what?” he asked, stalling for time.

“Don’t play dumb. The kids told me all about it. Said that was why Atlas fell: as long as the Staff was being used for time travel, it couldn’t be used to keep the city up.” Ah, great. He knew, then.

“Well, if they told you all about it, then what are you asking me for?” Qrow said, throwing up his hands.

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about you,” said Clover. “Said I should talk to you myself.” Another pause. “So that’s it, then. Something happened in the other timeline, and you think running away is going to make it all better.”

“I’m not -- ugh.” Qrow sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not just running away, okay? I’m doing what’s best for everyone.”

“What, leaving in the middle of the night without a word to anyone when you haven’t even been discharged from the hospital yet?” Clover demanded. “How is that what’s best for everyone? It’s not even what’s best for  _ you!” _

“What’s best for me doesn’t  _ matter,” _ Qrow snapped. Clover looked stricken. “Look, I told you, I’m bad luck. Bad things happen when I’m around. Sometimes… sometimes deadly things.” He rubbed his eyes and turned away, tired of seeing the pained look on Clover’s face. “Trust me, it’s better for everyone if I just leave.”

“Well, I think that’s bullshit.” Qrow turned back to see Clover almost glaring at him.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s bullshit,” Clover repeated, stepping closer. “Everything you just said. It’s all bullshit.”

Qrow narrowed his eyes. “Listen, soldier boy, I’ve had this semblance for--”

“No, no, I believe you about that,” Clover interrupted. “But this whole idea that you need to be alone forever to protect everyone else from your problems? No, sorry. Not buying it.”

Qrow wanted to shake him. “People have died--”

“Yeah, people do that sometimes. Listen, Qrow, has it ever occurred to you that maybe not everything bad that happens is because of your semblance?”

“I never said it was,” Qrow growled.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Clover. He took a few steps closer. “Give me one example of a friend of yours who you can  _ prove _ died because of your semblance, and I’ll let you go. I won’t argue, I won’t try to stop you, I won’t hunt you down. Just -- prove to me that your semblance has actually killed even one person you care about.”

“Well how about you, for starters?” Qrow snapped. Realizing what he had just said, he took a sharp intake of breath and looked away.

There was a long moment of quiet; then, “How?”

“Excuse me?”

“How did I die?” said Clover. Qrow flinched.

“I-I don’t--”

“If you really killed me, then the least you owe me is an explanation,” said Clover. “So why don’t we sit down over here--” he took hold of Qrow’s shoulder and led him over to a nearby bench “--and you can tell me all about it.”

Qrow couldn’t really argue with that, so he did.

Once he was finished, Clover sat back and let out a long, low whistle. Qrow couldn’t look at him; he stayed slumped over with his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands. They were shaking. He wished he could get a drink.

“No wonder you didn’t want to get on the transport,” said Clover. Qrow just scoffed. “Well, you want to know what I think?”

“I’m all ears,” Qrow muttered.

“I think it sounds like we both made some choices.” Qrow jerked upright and turned to look at him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“And Robyn made some choices,” Clover continued, “and Callows, unfortunately, made a lot of choices, most of which were a lot more rational than any of ours.”

“And you don’t think it was  _ unlucky _ at all that he managed to get loose in the first place?” Qrow demanded. Clover shrugged.

“Well, sure, but we could’ve handled that if we hadn’t been acting like a couple of idiots. Which, by the way, I’m sorry for my part in that,” he added. “From what you’ve told me, I was acting like a real bonehead.” 

“Are you even listening to me?” Qrow demanded. “I got you killed!”

“I got better,” Clover said with a shrug. “Besides, it kind of sounds like I got myself killed.”

“Clover--”

“Qrow,” Clover said. “I mean it. This wasn’t your semblance. It was just sheer human stupidity.”

Qrow just kept staring at his hands. “I killed you,” he whispered. His vision blurred. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clover cautiously scoot a little closer.

“No, Qrow,” Clover said softly, putting a hand on Qrow’s shoulder. “You made some mistakes. So did I, from the sounds of it. But I was killed by Tyrian Callows, not you.”

Qrow’s breath hitched, then hitched again. A sob tore its way out of his chest, and as he buried his face in his hands, he felt Clover wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him close.

“I’m sorry,” Qrow gasped. “I’m sorry.” He said it over and over, deaf to whatever Clover said in response. It was almost a compulsion; his lips just kept shaping the words. Each time, the phrase felt hollow, so he said it again, as if one of these times he’d get it right and it would finally be enough.

Qrow came back to himself gradually. As his frantic weeping subsided, a quiet weariness settled over him. He leaned into Clover, sniffling, and found himself presented with a clean white handkerchief.

“Seriously?” Qrow said. “You carry a handkerchief?”

“Not normally, no,” said Clover. “I just had a funny feeling about today.”

“You’re such a boy scout,” muttered Qrow, and blew his nose. They sat in silence for a while.

“It really wasn’t your fault,” Clover said eventually. Qrow scoffed.

“You weren’t there, boy scout. I played my part as much as you did.”

“Well, I forgive you, then, if that’s what you need to hear,” said Clover. “But I still don’t think it was your fault.”

“I teamed up with Tyrian Callows, of all fucking people. How is that not my fault?”

“From the sound of things, I pushed you into it.” Clover sighed. “You know, the worst thing is, I can see it happening. I’d love to sit here and tell you I’d never be dumb enough to try and fight you when Tyrian Callows was on the loose, but I’ve done all kinds of stupid stuff when my pride was hurt. Especially in the heat of the moment.” He paused, then added, “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t kidding about that.” Qrow rolled his eyes.

“You idiot, you’re the one who died. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Well, neither do you, but you don’t see me calling you names,” Clover said in mock-hurt. Qrow chuckled at that.

“Alright, alright, I forgive you.”

“That’s better.” Clover pressed a quick kiss to the top of Qrow’s head, then froze. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to -- I know you’ve got a lot on your mind right now, and this is hardly the time or place, I just wasn’t thinking, I--” He cut himself off as Qrow chuckled.

“Alright, lucky charm, don’t hurt yourself,” Qrow said. “We can talk about it later, but for now?” He gave Clover a tired smile. “Let’s just say I don’t mind.” Clover hesitated for a moment, then relaxed a little.

“You don’t?”

“Nah.” Qrow tried to stop himself from saying any more, he really did, but: “As long as you don’t mind my ‘endless cynicism.’” Clover winced.

“Please tell me that’s not something I actually said.”

“Sorry, boy scout.”

“Geez,” Clover muttered. “Look, obviously you don’t have the sunniest disposition, and I don’t love hearing you put yourself down all the time, but it’s not like I don’t get it. Besides, if it bothered me that much, do you really think I would’ve spent the last few weeks flirting with you?”

“I thought that was just my rugged good looks,” said Qrow, smirking. Clover chuckled.

“Well, they certainly didn’t hurt,” he said. “But come on, Qrow, I’m not that shallow.”

“No, I know,” Qrow said, and sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t keep bringing all this crap up. It isn’t fair to you. Besides, it’s fixed now, right? Everything’s fine.”

“Everything is not fine,” Clover countered. “All of that stuff still happened to you. It’s okay that it still hurts.”

“Yeah, well,” Qrow muttered, “that doesn’t make it your problem.” Clover was quiet for a long moment, long enough for Qrow to get worried and nudge him with his elbow. “Hey, you okay there, boy scout?”

“You know,” Clover said quietly, “I knew a guy once who was a lot like you. Kept to himself, never wanted to bother anyone, didn’t like asking for help. Turns out, he was dealing with some pretty heavy mental health stuff.” He let out a shaky breath. “He… they found him in his apartment. He’d -- he… bled out. From the wrists. His -- his blood was all over his weapon.” There was a long silence as Qrow tried to figure out what to say to that.

“Shit,” he said finally. “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Qrow, I just don’t want to wake up one day and find out you’re gone, okay? What you did, it -- it  _ scared _ me. I know you think everyone would be better off without you, but there are a lot of people here who really care about you and want you around, semblance or no semblance. We -- I mean…” Clover scratched his head. “Obviously I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know I’d rather deal with a little bad luck every now and again than never get to see you again, never get to be part of your life.” He paused, then added, “And I’m willing to bet your nieces feel the same.”

Qrow stared at his knees, trying to digest this. He tried to imagine someone wanting him around enough to put up with his terrible semblance and all its nasty side effects. The idea was foreign; it didn’t compute.

He realized Clover was waiting for a response.

“I…” Qrow cleared his throat. “I’m not really good at asking for help.”

“We can work on that,” said Clover. “But for now…” Clover shifted on the bench, pulling away from Qrow just enough to wrap one of Qrow’s hands in both of his and look him in the eye. “You can start by staying.” Qrow felt frozen in place, paralyzed by Clover’s earnest green eyes. There was a promise in them that he wanted desperately to believe, a promise that Qrow was worth something, that he was  _ wanted. _ Qrow let out a shaky breath. It was terrifying to see that look in Clover’s eyes, to imagine that maybe the central truths Qrow had built his life around -- that he was nothing to other people, that his semblance made him not worth being around, that everyone was better off without him -- weren’t as rock-solid as he had believed. Terrifying… and wonderful.

“Okay,” Qrow said. His voice was hoarse; his throat felt dry. “Okay. I’ll stay.” Clover’s whole body seemed to relax, shoulders slumping forward. A moment later, Qrow was engulfed in a warm, gentle hug. He stiffened with surprise.

“Thank you,” Clover breathed. “Thank you. I’m so glad.” The words made something in Qrow’s heart unclench, and suddenly he was hugging back, arms coming up under Clover’s to grip his back. If Clover minded the feeling of nails digging into his back, he didn’t show it. Instead, he squeezed gently, his arms a warm, solid barrier against the brisk night air. And Qrow had never truly taken shelter in his whole life, had never let down his guard long enough for the concept to mean anything. But just this once, he tucked his face into the crook of Clover’s neck, focused in on the other man’s breathing, and let himself believe that just for this moment, everything was okay.

* * *

Later, after the nurses had found them and scolded Qrow into a wheelchair he insisted he didn’t need, after the IV had been reinserted and the heart monitor reattached, Clover sat at his bedside, lost in thought. Qrow had already drifted off to sleep, his hand in Clover’s. Some folks said that people looked younger and more vulnerable when they slept, but Clover thought Qrow only looked tired. He had every right to be; it had been a very difficult week for everyone. Still, the sight made Clover ache. There was something about Qrow that just seemed so wary, so constantly on alert, like a wild creature with no nest or burrow to call home. It hardly seemed fair that even in sleep, he seemed to find no relief.

They had almost lost him again today. Clover supposed they had all been fools to suppose a little hospitalization would stop Qrow from disappearing if he really wanted to. Clover thanked his semblance once again for bringing him down that hallway in time to see Qrow slipping away. Clover’s heart had nearly stopped when he saw Qrow in that courtyard, standing clearly poised to literally sprout wings and fly away. Who could say if he would have ever been seen again after that? Who knew if  _ Clover _ would ever have seen him again?

Some people, Clover knew, could never be kept. A good fisherman knew when to throw a catch back, and it was the same way with people. And as everyone who had ever been dumped had heard a thousand times (especially if their younger self had made the unfortunate choice to style their weapon after a fishing rod), there were -- of course -- plenty of fish in the sea. But as Clover looked over at Qrow’s weary sleeping face, he felt a sudden pull of longing, and all he could think was,  _ Please, please, please let me keep you. _

Clover had meant to visit Marrow, who -- in a strange burst of normalcy that felt outright bizarre amidst everything that was happening -- had developed appendicitis and needed his appendix removed the night after Atlas fell. Marrow had been sulking about being out of the action for such a mundane reason, and Clover had wanted to cheer him up. But he was so tired. Everyone who was still on their feet had been working nonstop to clear the Grimm out of Mantle, help with repairs in Atlas, and shore up the defenses of both cities for the attacks they knew were coming. He would just rest his eyes for a moment, and then he’d go. Still holding Qrow’s hand, Clover folded his free arm on the bed in front of him and bent down to rest his head atop it. Moments later, he was snoring.

Qrow smiled in his sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to say that I **do not** in any way think Clover's actions fit his character during the fight, but if he and Qrow were going to talk about it here, I had to come up with some kind of excuse. so bam. there you go. hurt pride or something idk the whole fight was DUMB but it's part of my fix-it timeline so I have to put up with it. unfortunately. but hey this is what fanfiction is all about, is taking stupid canon decisions and making them make sense... somewhat... somehow. *dissatisfied sigh* anyway I hope you enjoyed this! I worked pretty hard on it, so


End file.
